


Organic Module

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: RoboCop - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Norton develops an attachment (if not feelings) while building Alex Murphy. <br/>*based on the 2014 film*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Organic Module

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE.
> 
> yea, i'm from the 90's

“Good morning, Murphy,” Doctor Norton nodded to the dormant cyborg, he slipped on his vinyl gloves and began his work connecting Murphy’s lung to the robot form, nestling the spinal cord firmly between the titanium shoulder blades and slipping the carbon fiber armor back over. 

Kim played a soothing loop-track over the REM program Murphy was currently connected to, their day was early but they had been working nonstop for the past seventy-two hours without the peace the cyborg was privy of, at Sellars’ request for their meeting the deadline in creating the unstoppable human-robot hybrid. If Doctor Norton had a choice, he planned to salvage as much of Murphy’s organs and nervous system as he could, to make the ‘man’ a little more comfortable starting his new life as the law enforcement’s unmade hero, then again he was forced to work with the only handful of organic material he was allowed, after all - an officer down due to pain or malfunction in Murphy’s case was a liability to Sellars and OCP. Neither was worth the risk of pissing off, so he rationalized to himself. 

Immersed in his work, Doctor Norton had not noticed a pair of eyes observing him, watching him bend over and tinker with the chest plate which needed extra protection for the layers of hardwiring fixed mainly to the still-living organs feeding Murphy’s upper half, his hands quickly readjusted the plates in order to fit another level of armor just over the internal organs calmly fluttering beneath his fingers. Doctor Norton nearly fell into shock as he looked up, catching those blue eyes merely staring, following his movements, pupils dilating and narrowing, just as suddenly did they dilate and trace back and fourth characteristic of deep dreamers experiencing REM. Doctor Norton let out a breath and continued. 

Several times the same events took place, so then Doctor Norton wrote out the happenstances as ‘glitches’ or natural reactions to the steady doses of diphenhydramine, being that the computer put itself on ‘diagnostic sequence’ any time the lab technicians left the control room. At first he was hesitant to perform with the usually-asleep audience, almost as easily when Murphy became again immersed in the REM program, he found himself at a loss halfway finished and the other half uninspired for losing his only spectator. Doctor Norton, after all, had an ego and an image to maintain, yet was starved of both after being locked into a factory in rural China for weeks at a time, Murphy provided neither amazed interest nor the ingenuity to keep the doctor contented with neither at close hand. 

All in all, the dreaming cyborg was a presence which Doctor Norton held a strange tranquility by.   
_

One week, Doctor Norton had to shut down Murphy’s fiber optic functions in order to test the sensory and relays between eardrum, brain and database, he saw then Murphy opening his eyes, scanning the area over and over, the pupils dilating and contracting wildly in succession, the system checked out at normal levels, but the REM program seemed as if to no longer hold Murphy’s attention. Doctor Norton directed the computer to play an orchestral favorite of his, Murphy’s eyes instantly shot to his direction, holding still without moving a muscle, he cautiously made his way to the cyborg, he stepped forward with his shoes lightly clicking as he moved. Murphy’s eyes moved down to the floor, curiously Doctor Norton snapped his finger to the cyborg’s peripheral left, the blue eyes followed, he snapped his finger above and the same result came to the effect. 

“Shallow breathing. Low heart rate. Weak heartbeat,” the cyborg’s voice audibly entwined in an odd frequency as if two were conversing at a medium decibel shook Doctor Norton into a near-stroke, “You need rest, Doctor Norton.” 

Doctor Norton did not answer, he nodded and made his way to the lounge for his much-needed nap.   
_

Another few days later and Doctor Norton was piecing the nerve relays of motion and motor skills from brain to an automated program for basic mechanical limbic function, he had Murphy at chest-level with small tools fastened to have the brain pried apart, he spent nearly twelve hours placing microchips throughout the damaged and dead particles of cranium. Doctor Norton peeled off his vinyl gloves and sat back to de-cramp both his legs and fingers from being too tense without a moment of reprieve, he mopped the sweat off his brow and asked for the remainder of the day to be spent napping. His request being instantly denied, he trudged back to the lab to continue further studies of reaction between the newly implanted microchips and organic material, Murphy’s eyes opened the instant Doctor Norton came into view. 

“Detecting rogue elements: thirty percent body oil. Twenty percent natural perspiration. Thirty percent hydrogen-oxide. Fifteen percent alcohol. Five percent…are you wearing cologne, Doctor Norton?” the flat tone trailed off as if stating than asking a question, Doctor Norton froze, at all wondering if it was either the program or the actual Alex Murphy speaking to him, “It’s very becoming of you.” 

In conclusion, mechanical humaniods had no opinion, and Doctor Norton from then on wore the same scent.   
_

Another week passed as Murphy stood disassembled and limbless, suspended midair against a neat coil of daily maintenance tubes which kept his organic limbic structure healthy and intact, his skin supple and blood pathogen-free, Doctor Norton stood nearby observing the movement and absorption of nutrients through Murphy’s body. Something new arose, Murphy’s lips had began suddenly twitching, opening and closing slowly, tongue brushing against teeth, lungs gradually expanding and deflating. The doctor paced before the cyborg, studying the new development of non-programmed movement, he calculated Murphy’s caloric intake based on the amount of average ‘fuel’ he burns within a twenty-four-hour span between ‘feedings’ and activity level, yet at this point was mostly stationary and primarily internal organ function, there was no need to count ‘miscellaneous’ gestures such as finger twitching or the flare of the nostrils. This was in Doctor Norton’s view a very different, very new occurrence, almost miraculous. 

“Sodium fluoride,” Murphy simply said, his tongue wriggling intently over his own teeth. 

Doctor Norton dipped his finger into a glass of sugar-water, he allowed his finger to dry before inserting his forefinger into Murphy’s mouth, the cyborg was at first only satisfying his own curiosity of the strange texture between his lips, then lapping his moist tongue around the digit, the sweetness causing another new function to occur: suction. Doctor Norton repeated the process as many times as it took to deplete the glass to the very bottom, unable to scrape another drop from the glass, he gave an apologetic smile to Murphy before shutting him down for the night, and throughout the rest of the night reading aloud a classic children’s story of a child whom inherited a chocolate factory. 

And unable to resist, he brushed his lips over the sweetest ones’ he had ever had the pleasure of tasting.   
_

Hours before Murphy’s systems went online for the show against Mattox for OmniCorp, Doctor Norton was doing a full system’s check, running diagnostics and refining the ‘fuel’ to the caloric intake of an athlete, he checked and ran the numbers so many times that his mind franticly bustled over What to do first and When. 

“I’m in good hands, Doctor Norton,” Murphy said, a tiny pull of his cheeks revealing dimples. 

Doctor Norton knew the odds of Mattox’s robots against Murphy, the right thing would have been to ask if he wanted to go off life support, he instead smiled, “You always have been.” 

Most of memories from Murphy’s waking to the test were decoded from reality and encoded to be remembered as images from the REM program. 

Tidbits of lost realities and missing fragments of a forgotten fantasy are all Murphy was made of.

**Author's Note:**

> took a few liberties here & there (^~^)


End file.
